


Draco's Pensieve

by WorthIt



Series: The Pensieve Duology [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Karaoke, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-18 21:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorthIt/pseuds/WorthIt
Summary: A collection of Draco's favorite memories from his pensieve.





	Draco's Pensieve

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the first chapter of the companion fic to Harry's Pensieve. 
> 
> Still looking for someone to beta this hot rock for me. If you'd like to have a go at it, hit me up at spicy-bunz on tumblr.

Draco wrinkled his nose as the stench of alcohol and smoke hit his senses. He looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye and felt his shoulders heave as he sighed.

“Come on Draco, don’t give me that look. You said you’d give it a try.” Draco eyed the dingy building as swarms of drunk muggles staggered in and out of the doors and milled about the street corner. Overtop the front door shone a bright sign flashing different colors. _The Deaf Lady._ And then, painted underneath the flashing sign, _Bar and Karaoke._

Draco squinted. “How in Merlin’s beard were they able to enchant a sign like that? I thought you were taking me to a muggle bar. And what’s a care. Cara oak?”

“Karaoke,” Harry corrected him, locking their elbows together and guiding Draco across the street. “Karaoke is when you sing along with a pre-recorded song. And it’s definitely a muggle bar. The sign is what’s called a neon sign. True neon is a sort of gas, like oxygen, but these are made from a type of lightbulb called fluorescents. But, we still call them neon signs.”

By now they were well within the throng of people coming in and out of the door, and Draco felt himself break into a cold sweat as drunk muggles began to jostle him as they passed through the crowd. The instincts of the past years demanded he get out of this huge groups, he was vulnerable to attack, he was-

“ID’s please.” Draco looked up. And up. And up, into the face of the biggest muggle he’d ever seen.

“Oh yeah, here, wait a second-” Draco watched as Harry rummaged through his trouser pockets until he found his. Wallet? His wallet, and after a moment produced a pink rectangle. The man inspected it and after returning it to Harry, he turned to Draco. Draco stared dumbly at the man until Harry elbowed him in the ribs. “Give him your ID, Draco.”

Draco fumbled in his pockets under the grumbling muggle’s scrutiny, then produced an identical card to Harry’s, except with his unmoving picture. The fake was quite good according to Harry (“Just until we can get you your own license.”) and even if it wasn’t, it seemed to be good enough for the muggle. With a gesture they were waved in, and once they were inside the warm, humid building Draco had to resist the urge to cover his ears. The noise from outside proved to be nothing compared to the cacophony inside the bar, voices clamoring over each other to be heard over the awful, deafening music bouncing through the room. It sounded like a dying mandrake root.

He felt Harry’s hand on his elbow, and allowed himself to be guided through the mass of sweating bodies to the counter of the bar. He shot Harry a disbelieving look, trying to convey the pain that was being inflicted on him but Harry just rolled his eyes and leaned over the counter, putting in an order to the bartender. As he did, Draco allowed himself to take in his surroundings.

The room was packed full of muggles, most in the middle of the room heaving and dancing together as another muggle yelled into an object on a small stage in the back. Draco’s nose wrinkled as he realized that that was the awful noise assaulting his ears. The ceiling was filled with smoke from cigarettes and cigars, and the stench of alcohol and sweat was almost overpowering. He jerked as he felt a cold wetness on the back of his neck, only to look over and see Harry pressing a bottle of beer on him. Draco scowled and grabbed the bottle as Harry laughed. “Really Draco, it’s not that bad.”

Draco looked at him incredulously as he took a sip of his beer. He winced, the bitter flavor making him want to gag. “Not that bad, Potter? It’s awful, why you would like it is a complete mystery to me. And what is this swill?”

Harry smiled as he took a gulp of his own beer. Draco watched his throat bob as he did, and he felt his cheeks turn hot.

“Don’t be a prick, it’s a bottle of _The Best._ And it’s really not that bad once you get used to it. I felt the same way when I first came here with Luna eighth year, but it’s not so bad once you figure out how you like it.” Draco squinted, pulling himself away from the way Harry’s neck now glistened with sweat. “How you like it?”

Harry grinned, taking another pull on his beer. Damn him, he knew. “Yeah, how you like it. Some people like bars because they can dance with strangers and some people like bars because they can drink a beer by themselves and watch other people dance with strangers. And some people,” Harry let the mouth of his bottle rest on his lower lip as he looked down at the general vicinity of Draco’s chest. “Some people like it because it’s the only place they can relax without being stared at. It’s somewhere that they can be just another person out for a drink, like everyone else.” Draco watched as Harry took another drink and felt he understood now, a little bit.

He hadn’t considered it before now, but as anxious as he’d felt in the crowd of people, he hadn’t been the subject of unsavory attention. No whispers followed him, no mutterings of _death eater_ or _murderer_ or, worst of all, _should’ve left him to the dementors._ He could imagine how it would be a relief to not have dozens of people coming up, clapping him on the back with cheers of _savior of the wizarding world_ or requests to buy him drinks. Draco used to be so envious of the attention Harry got when they were children, but now that _his_ face was the one on the front page of the prophet every other week, he felt he understood it better now.

Suddenly, Harry turned towards him, cutting off his train of thought with the press of his shoulder and the warmth of his breath on his ear. “So, do you want to hear my favorite part of this bar? Luna showed it to me, and I’ve been dying to try it again.” Draco pulled back to see Harry’s face and when he saw the grin and the crinkle of his eyes, he nodded hesitantly. Harry leaned over slowly, pressing their sides together until they were pressed from hip to shoulder. Draco narrowed his eyes as he felt his cheeks burn hotter. If this was what Lovegood showed Harry-

But then Harry pecked him on the cheek, handed him his beer and took off into the crowd.

Draco blinked, then started. “Potter! Potter, where the hell do you think you’re going?” He only got a laugh in reply before Harry was lost to the crowd. Letting out a grumble of annoyance, Draco deliberated with himself before muttering, “Oh, bullocks,” and forcing himself into the crowd, (wet, cold) bottles of beer in hand.

It was so much worse than he’d expected, the feeling of dozens of people pressing into him and, at times, dancing against him. Several times he almost lost the two bottles of beer on his shirt, but was able to recover just in time. Just as he was about to give it up for lost and make his way back out for a breath of air, he heard a _very_ familiar voice being broadcast throughout the bar.

“Draco, this one is for you.” He spun around and there was Harry Potter. On the stage. Holding the black stick the horrible moaning muggle had been holding and he wasn’t, surely he wouldn’t.

He was. Draco watched with a mix of horror and the terrible urge to laugh as he heard the opening chords of a guitar play through the bar and Harry James Potter, savior of the wizarding world, put the stick up to his mouth and began to sing.

> _“Twenty-five years and my life is still_
> 
> _Trying to get up that great big hill_
> 
> _Of hope, for a destination…”_

Draco stared. He’d never heard Harry sing. He didn’t know Harry _could_ sing. And he wasn’t exactly _good_   _(he wasn’t Celestina Warbeck by any stretch of the imagination)_ but. He had a raspy voice, which came out as sounding genuine, and honest. The mob of people around Draco had calmed down and were now fully focused on the stage. They swayed in time to the music and Draco could hear some of them singing along. Then he jumped as, in unison, the bar shouted as one,

> _“WHAT’S GOING ON?”_

He watched with wide eyes as the entire bar broke into song, every single person swaying and yelling along with Harry. He looked back up at Harry, flushed and grinning as he sang into the stick. He looked self-conscious, but happy. As the song went on, he seemed to let go of his inhibitions little by little as he exaggerated his body language, swaying and dancing to the song to the approval of the crowd. Draco’s heart beat a brand on his chest as he watched Harry on the stage, open and happy in a way he only was with Draco or his friends. Draco flushed as Harry rolled his hips and unzipped his shirt, allowing the sweat on his body to gleam in the lights above the stage. Suddenly Harry’s eyes met his and Draco found himself smiling back, his cheeks hurting with it. He took a swig of his awful beer to brace himself, and began to sing along. He felt an indescribable feeling bubble up and fill his chest as he stumbled through the words, swayed with the crowd and felt the press of Harry’s eyes on him, the bitter taste of the beer heavy on his tongue.

> _“And I say, hey hey hey hey_
> 
> _I said hey, what's going on?_
> 
> _And I say, hey hey hey hey_
> 
> _I said hey, what's going on?...”_

**Author's Note:**

> Catch Draco back at the bar a week later, vodka in hand and pink sunglasses on singing, "The Bitch is Back."


End file.
